


The Stars Above & The Scars Below

by DarkBlue



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Sex, Bathing/Washing, Can't help myself, Caretaking, Carlos works too much, Consent Play, Domestic Fluff, Feelings, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, I'll Take Care Of You, M/M, Massage, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn with Feelings, Scars, Squee, Stay with it for the smut, They are so cute, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-21 00:57:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3671598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkBlue/pseuds/DarkBlue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos gets wrapped up into his work (again). Cecil tries to distract him, but Carlos is a wreck. Cecil takes care of him...and then takes care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Stars Above & The Scars Below

**Author's Note:**

> A long fic of equal fluff and smut and sometimes at the same time. Vaguely mentions my other fic, but not necessary to reading/originally intended as another chapter/got too independent. I'd love reviews, and of course kudos. ;)

  "Not now, Cecil," Carlos murmured distractedly into the space beneath the eyepiece of his microscope. He was very carefully turning the dials when he felt something touch his neck and he shrieked, shaking the whole instrument, and completely losing its focus.

  "CECIL! NO! You _know_ that's my ticklish spot!"

  From behind him, his boyfriend stuck out his lower lip, withdrawing the feather duster.

  "What are you wearing?" groaned Carlos, rubbing a hand down his jaw and wincing when he felt the three-day stubble. Or was it five-day stubble? Whatever it was it was less than the week mark because it was still prickly.

  Cecil was wearing, in essence, nothing. He had clipped a lace barrette in his hair, and had tied a half apron around his waist. He had also meticulously applied eyeliner, not only to his face, but also to his chest, creating intricate black lace painted on his perfect torso.

  In spite of his irritation, Carlos still had to swallow. Cecil saw that, and pounced.

  "I'm cleaning sir," said Cecil in a flirtatious falsetto that was immediately and flawlessly transitioned into his deepest, most shuddery radio announcer voice. "I thought I could _clean you up_. Perhaps a shower? A bath even? A nice massage…some vacuuming?"

  Carlos knew Cecil's intentions were good, but he didn't think he had slept in…well as many days as he hadn't shaved. At least not a proper sleep. Not one that wasn't folded into the crook of his arms over his at-home workbench, radioing into his lab to explain his phenomenal findings on particle theory.

  Cecil who, bless his heart, loved his job but didn't need to work terribly hard at it,  didn't understand when Carlos let work consume him. For Carlos, his whole life had been about school and discovery. And for Cecil…well after all how hard was it to _read the news_? Albeit in a seductive, boner inducing way even when talking about evisceration and…

  Carlos had to draw a deep breath, because the reactions that were arising now were _precisely_ the two warring reactions he always felt when Cecil tried to interrupt his work: exasperated amusement, and real anger. And worst of all was that both of those emotions, by something Cecil had toyed with inside of him…by some bizarre tricking of his psyche, were now inextricably intertwined with lust. Just like carpal tunnel syndrome.

  "Cecil, sweetheart, come here." He held out a hand, but Cecil ignored it and delightedly ground himself into Carlos' lap.

  Carlos couldn't even muster the energy to be upset with him. He only blew out very hard, feeling his sandy eyes and how much his head was pounding; symptoms he could ignore when he was working. He thunked his heavy head into Cecil's chest and knew his hair was matted and greasy by Cecil's huff of astonishment.

  "Carlos?" and Cecil's voice was unsure. "Carlos, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you angry. I know you get…involved…in science. And I just want to help."

  "I know _querido_. I know."

  "I want you to get more sleep."

  "I know."

  "And eat more."

  "I know."

  "And take better care of yourself."

  Carlos nodded against the cool chest that was leeching the sweat from his forehead. "I know."

  "Carlos, your biometric readings are fairly awful."

  "I know. Wait…what?" Carlos managed to find the energy somewhere to lift his head off Cecil's chest – ah, he had smeared it – to stare up at his lover. Cecil's third eye had manifested from his forehead tattoo and was regarding him whitely.

"Is _that_ what that does?" he blurted before he could help himself. _How embarrassing._ "Darling, I'm so sorry!" he stammered, a flush starting somewhere between his ribs and climbing in horrifying agony to his face. "I didn't…I never…I just…"

  "And you think I don't know about science," teased Cecil, but sobered when Carlos looked even more stricken.

  "But…but mountains! And gravity!"

  "Carlos, gravity is a temperamental old bitch," Cecil said flatly. "Who only works when she feels like it. Even gravity takes a day off now and again. And so can you, and you're not a force of nature, even if you act like it sometimes."

  Carlos flushed even more. "I do…get a little swept away," he admitted.

  Cecil only licked under his jaw fondly, as if Carlos tasted very sweet. Carlos had learned to accept Cecil's licking him as a sort of affectionate kiss or caress, only using his tongue instead of his lips or fingers.

  "And I can be stubborn," Carlos admitted some more.

  Cecil nuzzled him, sniffed him audibly, and then licked under one cheekbone.

  "And you're right," Carlos finally acquiesced. "I feel aw- wait…are _you_ doing this?" he demanded, straightening from his slump in a cracking of joints and outrage.

  "What?" asked Cecil innocently, leaning forward to touch the tip of his tongue to the tip of Carlos' nose. Carlos caught his tongue between his fingers, and Cecil squealed, pulling away and standing up.

  "Does your saliva make me tell the truth?" accused Carlos.

  "Only if I want it to," huffed Cecil. "And it doesn't work like that."

  Carlos, in his exhaustion and his crankiness, was getting angry. "Oh, and how _does_ it work? Just take away my free will? Have me whenever you-"

  "Oh _fabulous_ ," snapped Cecil right back, not backing down for a second. "You're equating this to lack of _consent_?"

  "Isn't that what it is?" spluttered Carlos, who had thought no such thing but now was, and was doing so angrily.

  "Carlos, I keep an _eye_ on you!" Cecil gestured forcefully at his forehead. His arm tattoos were writhing under his skin on his arms, moving toward his torso promisingly to manifest the way they always did in times of high stress or emotion.

  "An eye or-"

  "Carlos, stop. _Stop_!"

  Carlos stopped.

  "I take your temperature," pleaded Cecil. "I feel for your heartbeat. And _yes_ , my saliva can make you tell the truth, but only if you already believe it. I can't _force_ you to say anything you weren't thinking of saying. So any secrets you have are yours to keep, I _promise_."

  Carlos was too confused to fight. He had lost his wind and opened his palms helplessly from where they had clenched into fists. His fingers were stiff from drawing graphs. His back hurt. His legs hurt. His hips hurt. His eyes were gritty and _that's_ why there were tears in them, not that Cecil hadn't seen him cry. Bawl, actually, which is what was about to happen now.

  Carlos snuffled and ignored the oncoming storm of everything he had been ignoring for the days of working straight through the night. "You take my temperature?" he asked instead, pitifully drawing a hand across his nose.

  "Darling, perfect Carlos, I can see now this was a mistake," Cecil gestured at his outfit. "Sit down. I'll change."

  Carlos collapsed onto his plastic chair, actually leaning all the way back into it for the first time in days, and watched Cecil leave and began to cry into the crook of his elbow. He was so damn _tired_ and Cecil had just been trying to be nice. Honestly he couldn't even remember what the hell he was trying to prove anymore. Science in Night Vale was a rabbit hole, much like YouTube videos or Cecil's Tumblr drawings of Khoshekh. He had started with Particle Theory. And then there was the extra elements in his petri dish…and the extra percentage point of a gas in the air…and then the water that ran in liquid ice that wasn't cold water…and then…and then…Carlos scrubbed his face wiping away the last of his sniffles and tears. Cecil was so right. It was time for bed.

  He dropped his hand, and was startled to see Cecil kneeling by his feet, comfortable again in a long sleeved shirt to keep his tattoos restrained, and his favorite Night Vale Community College track pants.

  "How long have you been there?" Carlos asked miserably, but Cecil only kissed the dirty jeans of Carlos' knee.

  "What…what are you doing?" Carlos asked tiredly, when he realized Cecil was slipping off his shoes first, then his socks. " _Querido_ , don't. My feet stink."

  "My feet stink too," said Cecil sweetly. "And I'm going to take care of you."

  Cecil's hands moved to Carlos' belt buckle, and he dropped his head in his hands. "I'm sorry," he apologized at once. "Cecil, babe, I can't. I just…I can't right now. I'm too tired."

  "You think I don't know what you need?" demanded Cecil indignantly, tugging Carlos to his feet as he stood. "You think I don't keep an eye on you? Know exactly where the tipping point is? Normally I intervene before then, but you were getting so much better with our anniversaries, and bedtimes, and not having the laptop in the bedroom. So I thought to myself, _Cecil, let him cross the point just this once. He'll be able to take care of himself_. And look at you. Just look!"

  Cecil gestured grandly at Carlos' wrinkled clothes, his charred labcoat, his greasy hair and overgrown half beard. His glasses had cracked sometime in a heat experiment, and he stank.

  Carlos hung his head in shame, feeling like an idiotic teenager. "Sorry," he mumbled, scuffing his feet. "I swear, I'd never do this to you. I just thought since it was _me_ it wouldn't-"

  "Matter?" asked Cecil scathingly, not being gentle in ripping the ruined labcoat over his stiff shoulders. "You're right Carlos. Just do this to yourself because you don't _matter_ to anyone. Not to me, surely? You don't see that you're doing this to _me_?"

  "It's not like that," Carlos protested weakly.

  "Oh really?" said Cecil archly. He clucked his tongue as he peeled off Carlos' three shirts (plaid, blue undershirt, and then his white tank he kept tucked into his jeans) over his head. Each smelled of stale, crusted sweat.

  "How did you manage without me?" he sighed, unbuckling Carlos' belt as Carlos rested heavy arms on Cecil's shoulders like a middle school dance. Cecil's height was hard to calculate. He usually hovered around Carlos' height, but Carlos was never quite sure (and was too embarrassed to ask) if Cecil manipulated it based on his mood or outfit.

  "Well it wasn't so bad," Carlos said reflectively, and hissed when Cecil swatted him hard on the stomach. "No! That's…that's not…I just meant that I didn’t have to worry about worrying anyone because there was…well there was no one to worry."

  "Do you see the difference _now_?" demanded Cecil, likewise stripping off Carlos' pants and glaring up at him as he forced Carlos to balance a hand on Cecil's hair to step out of them.

  "I didn't before," admitted Carlos. "I didn't think I was hurting you. I mean… I wasn't physically and emotionally…I mean you don't _have_ to worry."

  Cecil didn't hold back any force this time when he slapped Carlos not on the stomach, but full in the face.

  "Don't you _ever_ say that," and Cecil's voice was shaking, perilously close to tears.

  Carlos stepped forward, feeling his brow furrow in panic. "Cecil, Ceec, Cecil talk to me baby. What's wrong? What can I do?"

  "How _dare_ you suggest I can turn off my love for you?" Cecil choked. "I will _always_ love you because you are wonderful, and glorious, and beautiful, and-"

  "I'm not perfect," Carlos said wearily, wishing now he didn't know what Cecil's third eye was doing when he surveyed him. He didn't like feeling so naked.

  "Well you are to _me_!" Cecil said shrilly, and it was his turn to burst into tears. "And I hate that you make me feel like I'm being stupid, or being silly, or overreacting for worrying about you! There are some things you shouldn't mess with in Night Vale, and do I say anything? _Oh no_ because _science_ and… damn it Carlos! I…people go…you went missing! And I lost you and I _can't_ …not…don't you-"

  His voice was stopped suddenly by Carlos' enveloping hug, and his mouth on Cecil's ear. (He wasn't crazy, was he? Cecil had grown smaller in his insecurity). "Shh, shh, shh," he hushed. "No, you're right. I didn't see. I didn't see."

  They stayed for a while, until Cecil drew away with a crinkled nose and his regained stature. "You stink. Come on now, I've drawn you a bath."

  "It better not be on the whiteboard again," sighed Carlos, because since Carlos' introduction to puns, Cecil had become enamored.

  "You look terrible," Cecil informed him bluntly and not at all gently. "Really, truly, awful. I've covered the mirrors in case they try to kill you, or you try to kill yourself."

  Carlos only managed a ghost of a smile, and groaned aloud at the steaming bathtub. Cecil was a fan of bubbles.

  "Perfect, beautiful Carlos, get in."

  Carlos didn't need to be told twice. They had an enormous clawfoot bathtub that also somehow had Jacuzzi jets. When Carlos had mentioned this to Cecil once, Cecil had warned him that the tub was sensitive about its gassiness, and not to mention it again. Carlos hadn’t bathed for a week after that.

  Carlos hadn't been aware of Cecil's caretaker setting, but as he let himself slip beneath the bubbles into the perfectly steamed water, he realized it made sense. The way that Cecil made up his toothbrush for him, and left out the half mouthwash, half water cup because the mouthwash from Ralph's was 40 proof.

  There was a horrifying splash, and a heel knocked Carlos in the ribs, causing him to inhale a lot of water. He and Cecil both emerged on the surface, spluttering and confused.

  "What the hell, Cecil!" bellowed Carlos, who was feeling slightly better after being submerged.

  "I thought you were drowning!" Cecil gasped back, clinging, spider like, with all his limbs around Carlos. He was still wearing all of his clothes, and his hair was plastered to his white, stricken face. "You didn't come up for air for ages!"

  Carlos began to laugh. "Oh _querido_ , you're right. I'm sorry. So sorry. I was on swim team in high school and I can hold my breath a-"

  "What's swim team?" asked Cecil, finally loosening not four, but eight, of his limbs from Carlos' torso to keep him above water.

  "Oh Ceec, your shirt," said Carlos in despair.

  In Cecil's panic, his tentacles had manifested violently, ripping through the fabric of his long sleeves and leaving it in tatters.

  "You shave, and I'll take this off," Cecil said, pulling the stopper on the drain with a gurgle.

  "Hey," whined Carlos. "I was using that water."

  "It's filthy now," said Cecil. "We'll get you rinsed off and run you a bath. Stay sitting."

  Cecil stripped off his clothes and found soap and shampoo while Carlos lathered up. "I'm going to wash your hair, and you get rid of your stubble. It's itchy and I can't taste your sweet face nearly as well."

  Carlos only glowered at him until Cecil forced him to look down at the hand mirror he had been provided.

  Cecil squirted some ridiculously (good) smelling honey shampoo into his hands and Carlos groaned when Cecil touched his head. Cecil had a way with his hands that should be (and probably was) illegal. He kneaded them into Carlos' scalp, and Carlos lost all feeling in his shoulders, dropping his razor to the tub floor and moaning again.

  "Shave your face," chided Cecil, but Carlos only groaned again when Cecil began rubbing a particularly throbbing knot at the base of his neck.

  "C-can't f-function," Carlos mumbled incoherently.

  "What?" asked Cecil angelically. "You can't? Is it when I do _this_?"

  Carlos folded in half, clunking his head against the lip of the bathtub and not caring. Cecil was immediately apologetic.

  "Carlos? My Carlos? Oh I'm sorry. I didn't know that…Carlos? Does this hurt?"

  Carlos raised his head only when Cecil touched his forehead. His eyes were crossed and he was having trouble focusing.

  "Wh-what did you do?" he slurred.

  "You don't have Ranolok where you're from?"

  "What where I'm from," mumbled Carlos, and Cecil tilted his head back for him sympathetically.

  "Come here, you're quite the mess," he tsked, and briskly and efficiently, without missing a single hair, shaved Carlos' face in a matter of strokes, rubbing the razor in the inch of water at the bottom of the tub.

  Cecil tested his theory again. "Carlos," he said clearly. "I'm going to feel your face."

  "Mk," Carlos agreed sleepily, and Cecil gingerly felt the muscles knotted around Carlos' eyes, his mouth, his frown and smile lines. He smoothed them away, and watched in satisfaction as wrinkles disappeared, the collagen refilling itself, taking apparent years off Carlos' life.

  "Darling I would have done this ages and ages ago," he soothed Carlos, who was half comatose now, and Cecil resumed scrubbing his hair. Carlos' head flopped around on his neck like a top-heavy flower. "But I wash your hair all the time, and this has never happened."

  "You never rubbed it that way," slurred Carlos. "An-and I've never been so…so…"

  "I know darling," sighed Cecil. "I should have taken better care of you."

  Carlos regained something of himself and managed to grab Cecil's wrist. "And I of you," he agreed.

  "Let's get you rinsed off," Cecil said gently, and turned the tab for the faucet to run hot. Carlos hummed when he ran his fingers through his hair and cast around for a washcloth.

  "Let's get you cleaned up as well. Maybe we'll even wash you twice. Can you stretch your legs out for me?"

  Carlos managed to get into a sitting position as Cecil carefully soaped him down. Once quickly, and with much splashing and scrubbing, and another time more carefully. He could feel Cecil's fingers working into his arms, his back, his thighs as he went.

  "Carlos, you're all carved up," Cecil exclaimed fearfully.

  Carlos opened his eyes and smiled sleepily. "Ha ha," he said, as soon as he had checked (because in Night Vale, it was prudent to be sure). "That's not true."

  "But it is," exclaimed Cecil. "My poor darling lover. Look at you. Here," and he ran his finger lightly over the inside of Carlos' leg. "What happened here?"

  Carlos didn't say anything. There was no scar for what had been done there.

  Cecil grew quieter, rinsing slower. "And here," he added, tracing the lazy loop of Carlos' bicep and resting it beneath his arm. "Something here too."

 _Where his sister used to fit._ Before she got too big.

  "And there's a lot on your back…"

 _He never hit too hard._ Never enough to leave the marks Cecil was finding.

"The worst…right here…" and Cecil laid his fingers and gripped as if finding a small ledge under Carlos' collarbone, where it felt like Cecil had lanced him there again.

  She died slowly and horribly. _A scientist is always fine._

"Cecil, st…I'm really tired," Carlos said uncomfortably, forcing his weary muscles to stand. He felt old. He staggered in the slick tub, and Cecil was there, faster than humans were meant to move, scaring Carlos' primal instincts in a familiar way.

  "We don't need to talk about it," Cecil said at once. "But just know you can make those marks go away."

  "No you can't Cecil," snapped Carlos, finding himself a towel and ignoring the proffered one. "Some things…you just can't."

  "You don't want me to try?" Cecil said in a small voice. "I'd only do one. And only a little. It takes lots of times to…to even make a difference. I didn't say it was like magic, Carlos. Everyone knows magic isn't real. Just like angels."

  "I don't even know what's real," Carlos sighed, leaning against the sink.

  "You, and me," Cecil smiled crookedly. He waved above his head. "The void."

  "The void," echoed Carlos. He crossed a few steps to Cecil and kissed his cheek gently. "I love you, you know."

  "I know," Cecil said, and gently licked under Carlos' collarbone in the place he had touched.

  Carlos stiffened and had to quickly leave the room.

  Their bed was turned back, and Carlos knew it was just for him. Ignoring all clothes, he dropped his towel and flopped face first into it, struggling to breathe quietly. Struggling with…well Cecil _knew_. He could feel the gaze now, now that he knew what the hot tingling on the back of his neck was.

  "You're distressed," Cecil said simply, quietly, and Carlos realized there were candles lit. Cecil had meant for this to be romantic, and he was ruining it.

  "No, no, not _ever_ ," Cecil said, his voice barely growling. "Don't you ever think you being your genuine self is ever worse for even a second of pretending to enjoy something. The lie isn't better, not by the long shot."

  Carlos smiled weakly. "Cecil…there's just a lot I haven't…I haven't said. And reasons why I don't like being…being touched."

  "I know," said Cecil steadily.

  "No, you don't know," said Carlos distractedly. "Because if you knew…if you did…you wouldn't want to…to be with me."

  "That's a bit rude," said Cecil, his voice rising with the affront. "You don't know that. Shouldn't I get a say in who I'd like to be with?"

  "Well _I_ wouldn't want to be with me," said Carlos darkly.

  "Thankfully," and Cecil sank next to him on the bed and kissed his temple though his face was still buried into the pillow. " _You_ are not dating you. I am. Now may I try?"

  Carlos felt there was little else he could do but nod without looking extremely churlish. Plus there was something endearing and beautiful about Cecil's quiet dedication to caring for him. It made something in his stomach turn over.

  "We'll do the little ones first," Cecil said decisively. "And I promise, I'm so good at this, you won't feel a thing."

  Carlos tensed, not sure what to expect, but Cecil only left the room briefly before returning with a bowl of warmed lotion. He tested it briefly with the tip of his tongue, considering, and then poured copious amount onto Carlos' bared back.

  Carlos arched, and then groaned as the rivulets of hot lotion wended down his ribcage.

  Cecil climbed atop his bottom as if it were the most comfortable and asexual chair in the world and began to rub the lotion in as if they were on vacation.

  Carlos relaxed at the touch. It was normal and felt good, and if Cecil's fingers trailed in little spirals here and there, well he could ignore it to the best of his tired scientific mind.

  When Carlos was drooling into his pillow and _almost_ on the edge of sleep, Cecil began for real, by digging his hands into Carlos' unyielding muscles almost as if they were putty and beginning to rearrange many of his tendons and ligaments so deftly, quickly, and painlessly it felt very much like he was a guitar being restrung. Every section Cecil worked on and twisted out felt like it was a rubber band snapping back into its original shape after a tack was taken out of a pin board. A bit looser, to be sure, but better.

  Cecil kept plucking metaphorical pins, and soothing their absence with deep knuckled Swedish massages that Carlos was soon past groaning and only whimpered into his pillow pitifully when Cecil hit a particularly good one.

  "You're so wonderful, and so beautiful." The litany had begun as a whisper. The only other sound before Carlos had begun beyond the hiss of the candles and the slick sounds of hands against skin.

  "You are brave, and good, and worthwhile," Cecil was saying now, in between the whimpers of Carlos. "And I love you because you are good and brave but also because you have been weak and you can deal with silly me. And you will always be a hero in my sight, because though you can be, you don't always have to be always fine with me. I know a scientist is but…well you don't have to be. Not with me."

  Carlos quieted beneath Cecil's massage and words, letting them, with the lotion, sink into a deeper layer of his skin. He felt calm, and drowsy, and began to drift from focus, Cecil's hands slowly working from his shoulder to his mid back, to his lower back to – _oh_.

  Hello.

  Somewhere in his daydreams, the massage had shifted. Carlos realized there were more than just two hands poking and rubbing at him now.

  " _Cecil_ ," he squeaked, when two long tentacles massaged down his ribcage, to his hips and curled beneath them. His ass popped into the air to grant everything going on some breathing room.

  "Oh Carlos, you're _up_ ," Cecil said delightedly, and Carlos didn't miss Cecil's pun.

  He groaned in response.

  "How long have you been…um?"

  "Oh, lost track. I just wanted to see you happy…and then you were…and so then of course, being human and basically selfish and yet finite, I wanted to make _me_ happy, so I pressed a muscle here, a nerve there…I thought the _slow_ build was what you'd want."

  "Cecil-" panted Carlos, because there were tentacles wrapping around his shoulders pulling him off the bed while Cecil's nimble fingers gave up any pretense of a passive massage and began to circle his pectorals, inching their way agonizingly to his already hard nipples that were aching in the warm air.

  "You've been a very naughty boy," Cecil crooned into his ear, finally giving one nipple a pinch as Carlos quivered, biting gratefully into the thick flesh of a tentacle that was proffered. 

  "Oh Carlos, you _are_ in a temper," growled Cecil. "Using your teeth and all. We may have to gag you."

  Carlos frantically shook his head. "No - no I'll be good, I _swear_!"

  "But remember that time on the air," Cecil drawled sweetly. "That time _months and months ago_?"

  Carlos remembered. He hated himself for the torment now. Cecil was more creative, and had more appendages.

  "Ceec, that was a joke," begged Carlos. "And I'm grateful, really, for the massage BUT-"

  A tentacle had just wrapped its entire thick length around his right thigh, not even trying to avoid the long, agonizing brush with his erect penis, jutting straight from his body, not yet curving enough to come upwards.

  "Cecil," whined Carlos. "Oh but this isn't fair."

  "How, lover?" whispered Cecil, slowly beginning to lick his way down the back of Carlos' ear. "You've left me alone again, for days and days. You didn't take care of yourself, so now I'm going to take care of  _you_."

  Carlos was pretty sure Cecil could control his saliva's genetic compound too, because the world was getting sharper, more _tactile_ and it was maddening. Cecil's radio deep voice was shivering in his carotid, quivering on his bones.

  "Ce-Cecil…I-I'm sorry that I made you come on air," Carlos stammered. "I understand now that it wasn't professional."

  "You know what else isn't professional?" Another tentacle came to wrap around Carlos' left thigh, this time purposefully wrapping the end once along his length and giving him a long, silken tug to readiness. There was so much lotion everywhere, Carlos wasn't sure what was Cecil's natural lubricant, and what he had added.

  Carlos whimpered.

  "Say ' _what_ ' my darling," Cecil prodded him, and the tentacles around his thighs flexed so that they pinned his member between them, shifting sinuously like the coils of an enormous snake against him.

  "W-w-what," Carlos practically sobbed.

"You've put me through so much…I'd say that lack of consideration warrants payback, wouldn't you agree?"

  "C-C-Cecil," Carlos was embarrassed that he always stuttered when the foreplay began. It was his basic instincts to _not touch_ warring with _gods yes_. Previous partners had only been too happy to comply and skip the foreplay for the main act. Carlos never stuttered then; it was science. Like Cecil said: a nerve here…pressure there for a predetermined time. But foreplay wasn't like that. It was art more than science, and Cecil was a true master.

  Cecil shuddered bodily against him, and Carlos realized the tentacles had been inexorably pulling his ass flush with Cecil's hips.

  "This isn't professional. Not at all," Cecil grinned beatifically. "Because I'm going to do _science_ too. I'm going to make this last a _long_ time because I know how. Because I didn't realize you did too. I kept it from you Carlos. I kept it because I know we're both human, but we're different. And then I found out you like to watch me squirm. And you thought you were the dominant one in this relationship, and in a lot of ways, I _let_ you. Because I enjoy it. Because I love your worship and your tongue and your cock. But now I will milk you for this massage until you beg for it so loudly and telepathically, all those tourists will be orgasming in the streets long before you."

  Carlos leaned into Cecil's tentacles with all his weight, desperate for more friction. They let his cock bounce free, and he whimpered.

  Cecil barely held Carlos up, clucking and coaxing him to sit back on his heels, which he did, the bed creaking horribly. Then Cecil crawled around to face Carlos, kneeling across from him. Carlos' mouth was dry when he saw that Cecil had not put any clothes back on after the tub, and he was already erect and sweating.

  "All right dearest," he said, his face twisting into an inhuman, feral, electrifying smile. "We're going to play a game. Is that what you want?"

  Carlos wavered. He wanted to tumble into Cecil, the few feet between them negligible, and pin him down, biting on the soft underside of his jaw, his knee forcing itself between Cecil's legs and…

  "That was deliciously naughty," Cecil shivered in delight, his eyes darkening from their usual violet to almost magnetic black. "Now see Carlos, that's the attitude we'll have to fix if we're to keep you on edge. If you feel like you can just _take_ what you want…you're going to be a _difficult_ submissive."

  Carlos stiffened. He wasn't-

  "Yes you are," Cecil interrupted condescendingly. "Because you think being dominant is about pleasing yourself. If you truly held the power in this relationship, you'd know it was about grooming, and about setting up everything perfectly for the scene. For the play has to be played with precision and practice. And yet what did you do? You got lost…both then and now. This time it was lost in your work, but dominants aren't that selfish. You're a sub. A selfish, sexy sub to be sure, but…"

  While Carlos was trying to work through what Cecil was saying…and oh gods, Cecil _had_ been grooming him. Into not wearing a shirt to bed, setting his alarm to vibrate, making Cecil breakfast in bed, waiting his turn for the shower…all of which he had been duly _compensated_ for to be sure but-

  "Oh," he said in a very small voice, and Cecil stopped from where a long tentacle had wrapped its way around Carlos' waist, pulling him straighter.

  "Darling?" he asked, his voice anxious. "Darling, what is it?"

  And Carlos melted. Cecil, dominant as he had been, called him _darling_ because Cecil wanted him to have everything. Because Carlos had been looking down on him for not having as stressful of a job without realizing that _he_ , Carlos, was Cecil's job.

  Carlos went red from nose to toes while Cecil watched him.

  "Oh," he said again. "Oh, Cecil I'm-"

  And Cecil, with his surprising strength, dragged Carlos the length of the mattress, not even attempting to keep the sheets dusting along Carlos' length causing him to whimper, and crashed into him, kissing him fiercely.

  "Do you understand _now_?" he asked sweetly nibbling behind one of Carlos' ears. Cecil's hands had returned to his hair and were pressing and rubbing familiarly, Carlos nodding into Cecil's shoulder, his lips trying to move, to kiss or to speak and then-

  " _How_ ," groaned Carlos, biting his lover's neck. "How are you doing that?"

  Cecil was delighted and he did it again, but Carlos arched against him, butt clenched, teeth gritted. "Cecil wait-" he panted in a whine. "You can't…I can't come from just that…oh _querido_ …maybe I am too tired for-"

  "Nonsense," clucked Cecil, who was rubbing lithely against Carlos, turning his shoulders this way and that and letting his fingers trail where they would as Carlos began sweating heavily, smelling the stench of Cecil erect and ready for him. His ass puckered, as did his mouth.

  "I fixed you up better than new," Cecil grinned devilishly. "And my, _my_ are we hungry?"

  "Oh yes,  _please_ ," groaned Carlos, when Cecil lay beneath him, still holding Carlos captive in a thick tentacle.

  "Like I said perfect Carlos, a game," sniggered Cecil delightedly. "I want you to suck me off-"

  "Yes," Carlos agreed immediately, trying to clutch at Cecil's hips as he was hoisted away.

  "But the other half of the game is that you have to go _slowly_ ," Cecil taunted. "And I don't think you can."

  " _Querido_ you know I can," Carlos was losing his temper. He was squirming and his glans were prickling from lack of contact. Whatever Cecil had licked him with was making everything extra sensitive and it made his skin feel tight and tingle uncomfortably. "I made you scream and come-"

  "I know Carlos," assured Cecil, his eyes still worryingly malevolent. "But you'll see in a moment. Now go down- no, no, turn the other way around."

  Carlos, whose waist had been released gently but not all the way, looked up in surprise. "The other way?"

  The tentacle tugged his hips closer to Cecil's face.

  "Come on lover," teased Cecil. "It's a game. Can _you_ go slowly?"

  "Oh no," whispered Carlos in horror, not having much of a choice as another of Cecil's tentacles grabbed a thigh and forced him to straddle Cecil's face.

  "What you give is what you get," Cecil sing-songed.

Carlos dived face first into Cecil's groin, burying his nose at its base and beginning to lick long stripes, hard, giving Cecil the friction Carlos so desperately craved.

Cecil's body twitched but he tutted and the tentacle around Carlos' waist he barely noticed anymore hauled him out of reach.

"And you better do it slowly," Cecil admonished breathlessly. "Or you'll get nothing at all."

Carlos panted, his back aching at being held aloft, but he nodded the tiniest bit and when he was within range, licked a tiny flick on the head of Cecil's penis.

The tiny flicker of Cecil's tongue in response shot fire down both of Carlos' legs, and he almost lost his balance. Cecil's answering murmur as he mimicked the next swirl was amused at Carlos' weakness.

Carlos had never given stranger head. It was like he was doing it to himself. And where Cecil should have been half a second behind, he wasn't. They were perfectly in sync, and when Carlos realized it, he brought out his better tricks, his complicated swirls, his trick of writing words along Cecil's dick, deep throating and hollowing his cheeks, and even blowing gently before tittering a pattern. Cecil matched him stroke for stroke until Carlos' legs were shaking so badly he was worried he might crush his boyfriend's face. He understood now why Cecil got to be the one to lay down.

"I can't go much longer," he panted into Cecil's thigh.

Cecil's voice was raggedy. "Finish it," he demanded, and Carlos complied gladly, taking all of Cecil's length into his mouth and sucking hard, feeling the answering mouth on his own cock, and he began to pump his hips into Cecil, Cecil pumping his own hips into Carlos.

Carlos began intently to seek the orgasm now, feeling the familiar tightness in his balls, the building pressure; his legs were stiff and frozen, his back arching, and he worked Cecil's firm length around and around his mouth until Cecil finally stiffened, his mouth dropping and Carlos springing free. Cecil ejaculated so forcefully, Carlos took his mouth off for fear of choking, rutting his own hips into the air with a whine as Cecil gasped, not finished coming, though it had seemed an age to Carlos.

Carlos was sticky and sweating, and painfully hard, he looked between his arms up the length of Cecil's body to his blissed out face and grinned. "How was it?" he begged. "Was it fantastic?"

"Fantastic," panted Cecil.

"Now me?" Carlos didn't want to sound like he was whining; it was too much of a sub move for his pride, but he couldn't help asking. Cecil sat up, a strange look on his face.

"I only said it was a game to match me for a blowjob," Cecil said seriously. "Not that'd you'd get to finish."

Carlos collapsed face first onto the bed in shock, and he heard Cecil cluck joyfully.

" _Just_ how I wanted you."

  “Oh God,” Carlos’ voice was slurred into the pillows.

  “A second darling Carlos, while I get cleaned up.”

  There was a rustle as Cecil stood and stripped the top sheet, rubbing himself down in satisfaction, before he tossed it to the floor. As Carlos turned his head to watch his gorgeous lover, he realized at some point during their blowjob Cecil had put his tentacles away.

  Cecil climbed back onto the bed and inched his way up to Carlos, crossing his legs like he was about to work at his laptop, his glasses folded back onto his face. Without warning, he grabbed two handfuls of Carlos’ ass.

  “ _Cecil!_ ” Carlos squeaked, jolting forward on the bed, and then groaning when the sheets burned against his erection.

  “Hold still,” Cecil admonished. “We have to get you ready, and give _me_ time to get ready.”

  Cecil grabbed his ass again.

  Carlos bit a pillow hard to keep from groaning. “Cecil…” he panted. “What…what…” he was waiting for Cecil to move, but his hands were keeping him pressed apart, only gently kneading him. Carlos puckered, waiting for a tentacle at his entrance, but nothing came.

  The gentle circles continued.

Carlos arched into Cecil’s hands, and Cecil dug his fingers deeper, but did nothing else. Carlos’ breath was the loudest thing in the room. He didn’t know what Cecil was waiting for. He was ready…he was dripping against the sheets…

The wait was agonizing.

  “Oh God, just…just…do _something_ ,” Carlos commanded.

  The hands disappeared.

  “Cecil!”

  “You said do _something_.”

  “Touch me, fuck me, but _something_.”

  “ _You’re_ telling me what to do?” There was something dangerous in Cecil’s tone that sent a thread of dread tingling down Carlos’ spine. Cecil was unfairly using his radio announcer voice.

  “Cecil please…”

  “Better, but not quite.”

  Carlos was quiet. He was not used to being submissive. He thought about what he’d want, to get into the head game of Cecil. It was difficult…there was something about being at the mercy of someone else that had completely dampened Carlos’ frontal cortex, the core of his reasoning. It was addictive, and swimming out of the fog of his arousal to figure out what Cecil wanted was more difficult than he had anticipated.

  “Please,” he finally said, realizing that Cecil wanted him to submit to the scene completely. “Play on.”

  “Aren’t we a good scientist,” Cecil purred, and actually clawed Carlos from shoulders to thighs, making him shudder and rut hard against the bed as Cecil returned to grabbing his ass and spreading it apart.

  “Oh God,” whimpered Carlos, understanding for perhaps the first time that Cecil was going to take care of him. That Cecil was going to break him of his control.

  That Carlos just might let him.

  Cecil shifted his weight on the bed, kneading more deeply. It was starting to hurt now, the burn building, his knees twitching on the bed. And then there was hot air fanning over him, Cecil’s heavenly breath so close to his entrance which was screaming to be touched.

  “May I?” Cecil asked quietly.

  “ _Yes_ ,” begged Carlos. “Please Cecil…oh please _querido_. Please –“ He bit off a long groan into the pillow, shaking the bed as Cecil’s tongue probed his entrance and then began licking around it, which was not what Carlos wanted at all. But as it was contact, he let it happen, breathing shaky breaths onto the bed until finally...

  Carlos yowled so loudly he felt Cecil’s mouth spread into a dangerously long smile over his ass cheeks as he forced his tongue deeper and deeper into Carlos, swirling to the soft tissue.

  “Cecil,” Carlos’ voice was very strained. No human tongue should be this long. This flexible. This-

  Carlos screamed again when Cecil touched his prostate. Cecil grinned against him again and proceeded to fuck him like a jackhammer with only the tip of his tongue hitting the nerve endings of his prostate so deliciously delicately. A butterfly fluttering wings against it couldn’t have been gentler. But the rhythm was vicious, fast, and overwhelming.

  “I give up,” sobbed Carlos. “Oh Cecil please God. It’s lasted long enough.”

  With lightning fast speed and strength that Carlos found so attractive, Cecil flipped him over.

  “I could make it last all night,” he promised, climbing up Carlos in a trail of hot open mouthed kisses. “I could fuck you so slowly, so gently, and so well that you would go hoarse with the screaming. But tell you what. I’ll fuck you as soon as I can make you scream. You’re still in the begging stage. Then you know what comes next; the wordless stage…then _then_ is the screaming. But I’m tired now so I want you to get on the floor. Right now.”

  Carlos scrambled to obey, and Cecil laid over the edge of the bed, his ass facing Carlos. Carlos was so hopeful, his cock so close to coming he was gripping his own balls to keep them from tightening.

  “Drop them,” said Cecil, who was still staring straight ahead. In the mirror Carlos could see his third eye was open again, regarding Carlos with interest. “And don’t think you get to fuck me.”

  Carlos grabbed the bedsheet with both hands and rutted uselessly into the air, his cock achingly hard, desperate for attention.

  “Please just touch it,” he whimpered. “Oh god I’m hard and wet Cecil. Don’t you like me that way? Hard and wet?”

  “I love it,” said Cecil roughly, hoarsely, to the Carlos in the covered mirror.

  Carlos did not have time to worry about the transparency of reflections. He grabbed Cecil’s ass with his own hands and copied what Cecil had done to him, inserting his tongue much more quickly into Cecil’s ass and forcing his boyfriend to mewl in shrieking delight.

  Carlos stopped, panting, against the inside of Cecil’s left thigh.

  “Flip over,” he told him.

  Cecil didn’t move.

  “Please darling,” Carlos begged. “I know what you’ll like.”

  “I want to come soon,” Cecil said yawning languidly. “I’m tired.”

  “Please don’t leave me like this,” said Carlos in panic, his eyes actually welling with tears, which was strange as Carlos rarely cried.

  A triumphant smile flickered at the corners of Cecil’s mouth.

  “Finish me first. I want you to come while I fuck you, so you’ll have to wait for my recovery…let’s hope I can go the third round. You know I’m not as young as I used to be.”

  Carlos snorted. Like his height, Cecil was as old as he felt that day, and today Carlos felt lucky to be having sex with someone as young and virile as Cecil felt. Irritated at Cecil's refusal to help him, Carlos grabbed his own dick in one long stroke, his mouth falling open in bliss.

  Cecil jumped from the bed inhumanly fast, his tentacles snapping out and binding Carlos’ arms to his sides.

  “I see you’re going to be _difficult_ ,” he hissed, and Carlos shivered in Cecil’s three eyed gaze. It was intoxicating, he leaned forward to kiss Cecil, loving the thrill of being punished, and for a moment it didn’t seem as if Cecil would comply. But he leaned forward suddenly, devouring Carlos’ mouth and pushing him roughly into the floor.

  “I’m going to come in you now,” he said sternly. “As punishment you aren’t allowed to come at all. Or touch me while I do.”

  “Wha-“ But Cecil’s tentacles smacked Carlos’ hands to the floor, and pulled his legs up over Cecil’s shoulders as he lined himself up

  “Ahhhh,” but Carlos was beyond words now. Cecil slid in hot and slow and perfectly, twitching inside Carlos and purposefully deepening the thrust painfully until he brushed Carlos’ prostate.

  “Yes,” panted Carlos. “Right there baby. Please…exactly that way.”

  Cecil grinned and began fucking him hard, fast, and dirty, purposefully missing the spot every time.

  Carlos pushed his hips hard into Cecil, and then harder still.

  Cecil’s narrow hips was bruising the underside of his thighs, his tentacles were leaving suction marks on his wrists, and Carlos was gritting his teeth, his head thrashing back and forth as Cecil began to enjoy himself, panting in the quick succession of fucking him harder than he had ever fucked his lover in his life.

  “Oh Carlos, yes, aren’t you…aren’t you enjoying this…it’s so hot…so hard…you’re so tight…fuck you’re so tight…I’m going to come inside you and watch your cock twitch hard and left alone and I-I-I…”  

  Cecil came as violently as he had fucked Carlos, and when he let Carlos’ legs fall hard from his shoulders and thud into the floor without Carlos being able to catch them, Carlos winced as he felt the cum squirt out of him.

  “Oh my God,” he whispered. “You really are going to make it last all-“

  Cecil had turned his tired head and licked Carlos from shaft to tip in a molten sweep.

  Carlos screamed so loudly he thought his throat would tear.

  “There we are,” said Cecil tiredly, patting Carlos hard on his bruised ass and grinning when Carlos whimpered and squirmed.

  “Give me a moment, perfect Carlos,” panted Cecil, who looked ready to fall asleep. He army crawled his way up to Carlos’ head and kissed him tenderly.

  “You can fuck me now. I give you permission to finish.”

  Carlos didn’t need to be told twice. He scrambled to his knees and moved between Cecil’s knees as Cecil pillowed his head into his arms.

  Carlos tugged futilely at Cecil’s hips to pop him up, but remembered some of Cecil’s teachings: “Please would you lift up?” he requested politely.

  Cecil wasn’t quite so sleepy as he pretended, because the grin that Carlos caught from him made his cock twitch hard as Cecil pushed his hips off the ground with two tentacles and readied himself, his face still on the floor.

  “Go ahead,” he assured Carlos. “You’ve primed me enough.”

  Carlos nevertheless went slowly forward, almost coming immediately at the feel of Cecil hot and tight around him.

  “It’s only going to take you a minute,” Cecil murmured sleepily. “And if you don’t end up as blissed out as I am, then I’m a failure as a teacher.”

  Carlos was very sore, but Cecil was right. He thrust several times haphazardly until he found Cecil’s prostate, which made Cecil shiver with delight, squealing in a long baritone cry as Carlos drove into him again and again.

  His orgasm was so intense, Carlos stopped thrusting altogether, losing vision as he experienced complete white out. He felt a tentacle wrap securely around his waist to hold him up as he arched his back, the world screaming with him as his muscles clenched again and again until he was utterly spent. He collapsed with a tiny whimper against the tentacle, which lowered him down softly on the wood floor next to his boyfriend.

  “Carlos,” whispered Cecil tenderly. “How was that?”

  “Beautiful, _querido_.”

  “And how do you feel?”

  “Sleepy.”

  “And about other things?”

  Carlos was having trouble concentrating. “What other things.”

  Cecil reached his hand to touch the inside of Carlos’ arm. “These things,” he said quietly, snuggling next to him.

  Carlos hummed contentedly before one eye popped open. “You sneaky little bastard, this was all part of it, wasn’t it?”

  “What makes you say that?” Cecil was appropriately amused, looking down at Carlos (again with the height), as he pillowed his cheek atop his head. “I’ll take care of you, my scientist.”

  “I have a feeling I won’t be ignoring you again,” Carlos agreed sleepily.

  Together they lay oblivious to their sticky mess, falling asleep easily in the hot desert air wafting in through the window. Outside, a member of the vague yet threatening government agency wiped away a tear of happiness, before recording Carlos’ reactions to the experiment in a small notebook. He got into his helicopter, and flew away.

 


End file.
